CHAPTER 22: PUSHOVER

CHAPTER 22: PUSHOVER
Florence POV

There are ways things can be said, but even more so than that, despite all the opulence in front of me, the only thing I could think of was his warning about Rose. I pulled on his cuff just as the crowd parted in front of us, and he led me deeper into the electronic store. After a few words with what seemed like a supervisor, he held a small plastic bag with a box inside.  

“The remaining will be sent,” the manager said, bowing deeply.  

He simply waved them off, took my hand, and led me outside.  

I was half-expecting there to be a crowd watching us, but there wasn’t. My eyes moved around the mall again, landing on one of the fountains and then on the chandelier hanging down from the nearly 50-foot-high ceiling. Everything screamed opulence, wealth, and an air of self-importance.  

“This is probably a place for the rich,” I thought to myself just as he led me up the escalator. Even the side railings of the escalator were a luscious golden color. There was no heavy crowd, no pointed fingers or whispers. Most simply bowed and walked by us.  

“None of the common folk, then,” I thought as Leonard  led me into a clothing store.  

After that, I was made to slave away, trying on different dresses while he sat still, legs crossed.  

“Next,” he said, waving some of them off.  

Most of the dresses, as far as I was concerned when I looked at myself in the mirror, were pretty. He, however, didn’t seem so impressed.  

“Tasteless,” he said of a particular blue number.  

“Too much of a clash,” he said of another beautiful burnt-orange dress.  

“Terrible fit,” he muttered about another.  

Frankly, I liked him better when he was silent.  

But even with each comment, the store attendants, and apparently one of the managers who had come out, scrambled for dresses to be found.  

“Oh, definitely Alpha,” one of them had said at some point.  

“I was expecting it. He has the best eye, even for female fashion,” she said with a smothering, ass-kissing attitude.  

The manager suddenly walked over to me while I was wearing one of the dresses. This one was red, and truthfully, I found it rather distasteful. The shoulder work was the halter type, and the silhouette of the dress, as far as I was concerned, was off in many ways.  

“Why don’t you talk to him?” she said, suddenly grabbing me by the arm.  

“Tell him you like some of the dresses. He’ll listen to you,” she practically winked at me. “Just tell him you like it. I’m sure he’s not going to send then back. I mean, think about it,” she said, twirling a strand of her hair.  

“I’ll try,” I said in a shy voice as I wrestled my arm away from her.  

“Take it off,” he said. “It’s bad. If you don’t have anything good to say about it, it was a bad idea to come here in the first place.”  

Leonard  settled on saying this without even sparing me a second glance.  

“But I like it,” I stuttered, grabbing onto the sides of the dress.  

His eyes landed on me, moving slowly over my form, taking in my chest, waist, and hips.  

“It’s not a good fit,” he said. “It doesn’t flatter you. Besides,” he smirked, “I don’t think you like it. You look uncomfortable.”  

At that moment, I rushed into the changing room as quickly as I could, pulled off the dress, and returned to my older clothes before I was grabbed again.  

“Don’t you know how to do what you’re told?” I heard the manager hiss as her fingernails began to painfully dig into my flesh.  

“Can’t you tell him you like something and hold on to it? What are you? Some sort of pushover? Some sort of idiot?”  

“He has to tell you something before you can do it?”  
I bit my lip just as her nails continued to dig into my skin.  

“Stop it,” I said. “Please.”  

I pushed at her, but unfortunately for me, she listened very little.  

“Can’t you just do something? Now he’s going to leave, and he might not buy much more, and that’s going to be bad for my record. Can you just do me one favor? Put on one more dress. Besides, it’s hardly even my fault that you can’t fit into most of them.”  

My mouth opened for a brief moment as I genuinely wanted to reply. It wasn’t that I couldn’t fit into any of the clothes; it was more like they didn’t fit me. The styles were off. Many of them were either too loose at the waist, too long or too short, or generally unable to go over my hips.  

“It’s not my fault I have a fat ass,” I thought to myself bitterly. At least that was what Diana always said. “You'd never be kobed with a body full of blubber like that.” She'd always say with a smirk, knowing what it did to me.

The dressing room doors suddenly opened, revealing a sour-faced Alpha glaring at the spot where the manager held my hand. He reached in, pulled the manager out by her hair, and flung her away before grabbing me by a different arm and pulling me out.  

"Insubordination," he said. "No. Not ever, I'm not going to let this slide. No," he added in a painfully calm voice, "you're going to regret that. And you're going to pay with your life."  

Leonard  pulled me until we were past the manager. She, on the other hand, from what I could see as he dragged me away, began to cry, reaching for me.  

"Please save me. Please, tell him. Tell him I just wished to help you," she pleaded, her hand never quite reaching my leg.  

Leonard  intensified his pull, taking me outside the store while muttering something under his breath. He suddenly turned to me, grabbing me by the shoulders and placing his lips close to my ear.  

"I know you want to beg me on her behalf," he said, taking the words right out of my mind. "I'm not going to do that. I'm not going to listen. You need to learn how to be a little less of a pushover. But we'll have this conversation later. You're coming with me."  

I was trailing behind him, my feet effectively exhausted, but my heart was thudding with a mix of anxiety and anticipation. Instead of taking me to another clothing store, he stopped at a seamstress’s shop, one where he seemed to genuinely smile.  

"I thought you would never show up," the elderly woman said, smiling and reaching for his hand.  

But that wasn’t what caught my attention. She wasn’t stereotypically what I would have expected of a seamstress, and her store displayed the most beautiful dresses out front. Dresses made of the most luxurious fabrics—silk, sequins, and designs that felt out of this world. Her creations were whimsical and breathtaking.  

"I’m supposing you want me to dress her?" the petite woman asked, smiling pleasantly.  

"Yes," Leonard  mumbled, with a slight pinkish tint on his cheeks.  

Wait, what? Did he just blush?  

Only a few things could explain that. Either hell had frozen over, or I was dreaming.